


mouth open like (high)

by ootajins (verdantspace)



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Roleplay, lapslock, yama: nasty but tender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:26:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23124718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verdantspace/pseuds/ootajins
Summary: but sometimes sho wills his knees to bend, his perfect posture to break, and his features to go slack. all of these he does while framed from either side by satoshi’s legs. perhaps not anabsolutefavorite, but satoshi can’t deny the soft spot he harbors for this one.an ode to satoshi’s fondness of sho’s eyes, and the sound he makes when he swallows.
Relationships: Ohno Satoshi/Sakurai Sho
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	mouth open like (high)

**Author's Note:**

> so.....no one on ao3 has written a bj scene based on that “i like the sound sho-chan makes when he’s slurping on ramen/soup” thing ohno satoshi boldly said on national tv huh. well here u go :3
> 
> **warnings** for: mild **roleplay** , honorifics kink (is that a thing? it’s a thing in this fic), mild innocence play, **deepthroating** , dirty talk, **D/s** elements. pls don't proceed if ur triggered by any of the warnings.
> 
> title taken from fka twigs’ [two weeks](https://open.spotify.com/track/2UYJqglnOMTvRcqQLNcjjf). listen along for maximum🔥🔥

satoshi can’t say this is his favorite place for sho to be.

not that he doesn’t like it; there are simply too many to choose from that satoshi has a hard time listing his preferences. there’s the reigning monarch on top of the stage they share together. the impeccably dressed newscaster behind the screen of satoshi’s ridiculously large tv. the well-mannered eater who turns messy when his favorite food is served on the table. and the lazy, loose-limbed cuddler curled on satoshi’s sofa.

but sometimes sho wills his knees to bend, his perfect posture to break, and his features to go slack. all of these he does while framed from either side by satoshi’s legs. perhaps not an _absolute_ favorite, but satoshi can’t deny the soft spot he harbors for this one.

“ohno-san.”

sho only uses satoshi’s family name with its appointed honorific in a professional setting, or in their member-only group chat. he also uses them when they’re goofing off, the supposedly respectable title uttered in a teasing, playful lilt satoshi can’t bring himself to be angry at.

but this. this saccharine sweet, cajoling tone is something else _entirely._

“ohno-san,” sho calls again, hands moving to stroke up satoshi’s thigh. his touch is light. hesitant. like he’s inexperienced. satoshi _knows_ he’s anything but. “is this okay?”

in response, satoshi only makes an appreciative hum.

sho’s teeth cut a white line on pink, plush lip. “am i doing okay?”

he sounds so unsure of himself, peering up at satoshi with huge, shaking eyes. satoshi is driven by habit when he threads comforting fingers through sho’s hair.

“sho-chan,” satoshi coos, “you haven’t done anything, haven’t you? haven’t even touched me directly.”

“oh,” sho gasps, shoulders jumping. it’s an exaggerated gesture, but satoshi laps the act up like a dog. “you’re right,” sho continues, laughing in a tiny _hehe_ that gusts teasingly on satoshi’s crotch. “then... may i?”

the stroking motions on sho’s hair turn into a vice grip. satoshi doesn’t pull, but the strain is enough to make sho’s lashes dip, a whine catching in the back of his throat. “ask properly, sho-chan. there’s a good boy.”

juxtaposing the praise, satoshi takes his hand off sho’s hair and scoots backward on his seat. denies him the right to touch and the comfort of touches.

satoshi knows sho is sharp enough to pick up on the unspoken message, but the sound of loss he makes still strokes fire on satoshi’s ego. that, and the longing gaze that falls heavy on the front of his pants.

but he waits. satoshi’s good at being patient. at picking which action to take to lure his prey in.

sho’s face crumples in a combination of impatience and want. satoshi wants to smooth out the crinkle between his brows, but refrains.

“i...” he finally says, darting his gaze to the ground once before finding satoshi’s again. “may i suck you off, ohno-san?”

satoshi is tempted to laugh. sho seems to be determined to exhaust his skills as an actor for the act of servicing satoshi’s cock. the waver to his voice is near _impeccable_ — a note of innocence that somehow rings greedy.

it’s almost a shame to waste such a performance on foreplay, but that very determination causes satoshi’s hand to yield. it surrenders to the need to touch sho’s cheek, grazing the curve of it down to the dip between his chin and bottom lip. he presses down with his thumb, prying sho’s mouth open into a little _o._

the view of his open, willing mouth is enough to send another painful throb to satoshi’s erection.

“of course you can, sho-chan,” he finally answers, careful not to sound too eager. “keep your mouth open, sweetheart.”

in response, sho does the unexpected. he pulls away — just slightly, but enough rouse confusion. he keeps eye contact, looking up at satoshi with eyes fraught with want, but instead of doing what satoshi asked, sho keeps his mouth firmly shut.

_does he want to take on a bratty persona? now?_ satoshi frowns, tilting sho’s head up. “what are you doing, sho— oh.”

discarding the previous line of thought, satoshi chuckles in awe and disbelief. his eyes are trained on sho, adoring and incredulous at the same time. there’s a faint wet sound coming from the inside of sho’s mouth, and satoshi doesn’t have to be a genius to know it’s his _tongue._

“are you gathering spit inside of your mouth, sho-chan?” satoshi asks, can’t resist the urge to play with sho’s hair again. “lubing up your hole for me to fuck?”

his crass remark makes sho moan around his mouthful, eyes fluttering shut. the effect of satoshi’s soft tenor wrapped around shameless filth.

“that’s filthy,” satoshi drawls, accentuating his word with a harsh pull to sho’s hair — a reward. “so fucking filthy, but so, _so_ good. you’re a dream come true, sho-chan. i hope you know that.”

ever so weak to satoshi’s declarations of praise, sho opens his eyes. he doesn’t go out of character, but does slip a little. the way he unbuckles satoshi’s belt, drags down his zipper, and takes his cock out of its confines is practiced. a touch too familiar for the setting, but satoshi doesn’t have the heart to chide him. not when sho is being so good to him.

when sho eventually unravels his lips, his mouth cavity is thoroughly drenched. a bit of drool inevitably drips down his chin. he ignores it and keeps his posture, gazing up at satoshi with expectant eyes.

“all good n’ wet for me,” satoshi observes, thoroughly delighted. “thank you, sho-chan. now stay still.”

after relaying the order, satoshi readjusts his grip on sho’s hair, pushing past the slick pout of his lips and into the hot cavern of his mouth.

sho shivers when satoshi is halfway in, eyes half-lidded. they eventually slide close by the next heartbeat, as though sho regards his vision a distraction from putting his mouth to good use. he makes a sound when satoshi eventually hits the entrance to his throat, but it’s swallowed by the thick, sopping noise courtesy of his overflowing spit.

it was most likely a sound of elation, satoshi surmises. only sho can make gagging around a cock sound euphoric.

satoshi rewards his obedience by being effective with him: moving in a steady, flexing movement that guarantees depth as he chases his own pleasure. sho’s pushed further onto satoshi’s cock with every stroke, but he doesn’t protest; merely draws insufficient air into his lungs whenever the thrust of satoshi’s cock against his throat spares him the space to do so.

sho can’t speak or move, rendered doll-like and docile for satoshi’s use, but satoshi can’t shake the feeling of wanting something _more._

the need to release sits heavy in the cradle of his hips, but it’s overpowered by the itch to drag the moment on. to see more of sho. hear more of him. of what he would do if satoshi denies him again. what act of desperation he would resort to.

so before sho can slip into a hazier state of mind, satoshi halts all movement.

“you’re liking this too much, sho-chan,” satoshi says, his voice raw and a little grating. he pulls his cock out of sho’s mouth in a gradual slide, keeping a firm grip on the roots of sho’s hair to keep him from moving.

sho makes a confused noise and fights against his hold, his efforts pitiably cute and evidently futile. “ohno-san...?” he asks, sounding wrecked. “what’s wrong? didn’t you want to fu—” he bites the word back, frowning. “...use my mouth?”

“mmm, i do,” answers satoshi, leaning forward to cup sho’s face in his hands. from this distance, his eyes look the most precious — a pair of big, beady opals satoshi so loves. those unchanging, cherubic eyes, looking up at him in question and confusion.

yet there’s no hiding the heady tendrils lurking behind them, a sign that sho is willing to do just about anything to be given permission to continue choking on satoshi’s cock. “but i think i need convincing. me fucking your throat means i’m doing all the work, yes? convince me to indulge you, sho-chan. we’ll see from there.”

when satoshi withdraws, he catches the determined pull to sho’s mouth on the periphery of his vision and has to suppress a grin. _challenge accepted,_ it seemed to say. satoshi smiles and rests his back on the sofa, tender anticipation tingling his features.

he watches sho fall into faux panic, gaze darting everywhere but at satoshi’s cock. “i— what should i—” he babbles, gripping the fabric of satoshi’s pants. his eyes gleam wetly under the soft lighting of satoshi’s living room. “ohno-san, i don’t know, please—”

satoshi makes a huffy sound, face folded in disappointment. “don’t act spoiled, sho-chan. you’re not stupid, are you?”

the teary eyes are starting to look too real, now. “no! i— i’m not—”

“prove it, then,” satoshi says in a tone that leaves no margin for rebuttal. “you know what i like.”

in truth, sho is an expert in satoshi’s most favorite things, be it in bed or outside of it. satoshi always looks forward to how he’ll interpret a scene — how he’ll weave his words and actions to bring them both toward a new high. sometimes they end up fucking hard enough to render each other speechless and mindless. other times it’s ridiculous enough to leave them a laughing heap on the bed, hard-ons ignored in favor of succumbing into uncontrollable cackles.

satoshi will love the outcome, either way, so he waits.

sho sniffs and pulls a few deep breaths to calm himself, then scoots forward. his fingers tremble when they close around satoshi’s length, thumb grazing skittishly against the underside. he frowns at satoshi’s dick like it’s a problem to solve and laves kitten licks on the swollen crown, glancing up at satoshi as if to say _is this okay?_

he makes a heartrending picture, and satoshi feels the harsh edges of his expression thaws in time with his resolve. there’s a part of him that’s ready to succumb, but he’s robbed of the chance when sho mouths up his dick and starts speaking against the sensitive, pulsing vein that runs down the length.

“ohno-san,” he pants, fevered and desperate. “please, please fuck my mouth...? i’ll be good, i— am good, aren’t i? your—favorite. favorite plaything.”

_plaything,_ he said.

satoshi falls into astonished silence, and sho seems to take it as a bad sign. he becomes impatient, descending on the entire length of satoshi’s cock without pause. he stays down for as long as he can, mouth a tight ring around the base and throat straining around the bulbous head. they both let out choked-off moans at the sensation, and satoshi’s hips stutter forward helplessly.

when sho eventually feels the need for air, he makes sure to suck around the girth as he goes. he’s messy about it, drooling a mixture of saliva and precome and groaning in frustration when he realizes he can’t slurp it all up open-mouthed.

“sho-ku—” satoshi tries to speak only to get cut off by another string of babbles, this time adorned with lisps here and there.

“don’t you like my eyes, ohno-san?” sho asks. his smile is loose around the edges, dazed and a little slow. there’s a bead of precome sticking to the corner of his mouth. “then, then you should— look at me. look at my eyes when you fuck my mouth.” as if to increase the value of his offer, sho rubs a flushed cheek against the head of satoshi’s cock. “i’ll be good. keep them open for you.” then he blinks, sluggish and deliberate. like he’s showing off.

_an expert on satoshi’s most favorite things._

a surge of desire so intense and dizzying threatens to spark permanent white on satoshi’s vision. he’s never bothered to hide his appreciation for sho’s features or how his eyes are often the centerfold of his adoration. he remembers the earlier days, when he’d ask for them to fall asleep face to face, just so he could commit sho’s eyes to memory.

“is there a point to this, satoshi-kun?” sho used to ask, seconds away from slumber but still so willing to cave in to satoshi’s whims.

“wanna see them in my dreams,” satoshi had answered honestly, letting out a discreet breath of relief when twin blushes climbed up their necks.

considering this development, those eyes are going to _also_ feature in satoshi’s less than innocent dreams.

it’s astounding how easily sho plays him despite being the one on his knees. how effortlessly he plucks the strings running through satoshi’s limbs, all the way to the ones sprouting from his heart.

it irks him to a degree, but at least there’s solace in the way sho allows satoshi’s hands free reign on his body. to bend and shape him however he pleases. it’s a deep-rooted trust stemming from the belief that satoshi is best at mending him together again, so of course satoshi can’t afford to disappoint him.

grasping for a semblance of control, satoshi springs to his feet and crowds sho’s space. the momentum takes sho by surprise, eyes going wide when one of satoshi’s hand splays gently between his shoulder blades while the other closes without mercy around his jaw.

“you’re so desperate,” satoshi says. a statement, not an observation. the hand on sho’s back traces a line up the ridges of his spine, the finely corded neck, until it settles on the back of his head. anchoring. commanding. “want me to ruin your throat, sho-chan? make you unable to speak properly for days? want it that bad?”

satoshi’s voice breaks in a fevered pitch they both ignore. the mask of docility sho has been wearing slips off completely off when he grins like the cat who gets the cream and audaciously licks his upper lip. “please,” he begs, jaw unhinging.

the angle’s better than before, satoshi must admit. it takes little to no effort pushing past the spongy flesh at the beginning of sho’s throat into the tighter, rippling passage. sho hardly gags and allows satoshi to build his rhythm from there, grinding forward in shallower one-two-threes and pressing deeper on fours, until sho’s nose hits the patch of hair below his navel.

sho makes good on his promise of keeping his eyes open for satoshi’s viewing pleasure. it must be hard, considering the constant pressure against his gag reflex, the shortage of breath, and the heavy heat of satoshi’s body urging against him. satoshi knows from experience that it’s _hard,_ but sho perseveres; hazy, glistening eyes peer up at satoshi from under half-shuttered lids, tears rolling off of them in a steady stream.

“sho,” satoshi says, his breath deepened by exertion. a thumb reaches out to brush past sho’s tears. the droplet beads diamond precious on satoshi’s thumb.

the sight makes him ache, heart thumping painfully. “sho-chan,” he calls, giving himself a mental pat on the back for not stuttering. “you have—hh,” he whines breathily when sho surges up to meet a particularly deep thrust, the action accompanied by a distinct, viscous noise satoshi won’t be able to get out of his head anytime soon. fighting a wave of dizziness, satoshi realizes he must bring down the pace if he wants to get _any_ word out. he eventually manages to, but not without getting two hands on his hips, questioning. it’s sho, checking up on satoshi’s well-being as if he’s not the one in a more vulnerable position.

perhaps i’m in love, satoshi thinks with utmost conviction.

thankfully, the confession doesn’t tumble out of his mouth. he mumbles his reassurance instead, ignoring how it comes out inelegant, pushing past a limp, crooked smile. “s’okay. i’m just. lookin’ at your eyes. they’re so pretty, sho-chan. prettiest eyes, but you can close them now.” he wipes away sho’s tears again, nudging the puffiness beneath his eyes.

in response, sho’s eyes crescent above rosy cheeks; like he’s smiling. then he lets them slide close, quiet and grateful.

satoshi’s hand combs a curve that begins on sho’s hairline and ends on his nape, brushing away the damp strands sticking to skin. “ready?” he asks softly. after receiving sho’s nod, satoshi bends slightly forward and braces his hands on sho’s shoulder and back for leverage.

gone are the scripted composure and teasing games from before, replaced by a sort of desperation that drives satoshi’s hips to a near thoughtless chase. amid the incessant pounding, satoshi thinks of sho — he’s always thinking of him in some capacity — _worries_ for him, but despite everything that’s going on, sho doesn’t relent. he doesn’t resist.

he just— opens. both his mouth as a comfortable sheath for satoshi to sink into, and his arms to support a chunk of satoshi’s weight. sho is accomodating and sturdy underneath him, a dream come true and a nightmare to satoshi’s idea of self-preservation because they’re not exactly young men with spare stamina for strenuous activities.

“ah, sho-chan,” he pants, shoulders drooping forward, “m’close—”

in the throes of orgasm, satoshi’s focus tapers into a single point, devouring the more lucid part of his mind. he claws his fingers into sho’s hair and jackhammers in, almost like he’s intent to fuck his throat loose. the sloppy, wet sound of their one-sided coupling rings brutal to satoshi’s ears, but sho welcomes the intrusion with enthusiasm, moaning around his mouthful and moving a hand to reach for the base of satoshi’s cock. the way he tickles the sensitive stretch of skin between the balls and gives one, two, three gentle squeezes to coax everything out of them mark the beginnings of satoshi’s orgasm.

satoshi lacks the energy — or the mind — to keep his noises in when he breaks like a river taking out a dam, spilling past his edges in violent bursts. he heaves countless breaths and has to hold on to sho to remain upright, hips trembling in sho’s hold as he feeds his load into his mouth. some of it slides easily down sho’s throat, but the rest are too thick, clinging onto the flats and ridges of his oral cavity.

sho hums when he slides off satoshi’s cock, providing a half-second peek into the mess in his mouth before closing it shut.

“satoshi-kun, look at me,” he speaks in an echo of what he said earlier. waits for satoshi’s blurry eyes to find his own before swallowing the semen sticking to his mouth and throat, thick neck moving with the effort.

“fuck,” is satoshi’s idea of a running commentary.

to that, sho has the gall to laugh. it comes out hoarser than satoshi expected, instilling a pang of guilt in his heart.

as if in-tune with the frequency of satoshi’s thoughts, sho rubs comforting circles on his thigh. “i’m okay, satoshi-kun. don’t worry.”

“of course i worry,” satoshi counters, gracelessly plopping back on the couch. he traces a line down sho’s neck, making a sound of inquiry that sho responds to with another soft, whispered _i’m fine, really, it’s okay._

he most likely won’t be needing satoshi’s reminder to drink warm tea and take some lozenges tomorrow, but satoshi still makes a mental note to pester him. he slots his hands under sho’s armpits and hauls him up, their combined weight a tad too hefty on the small sofa.

“that was unfair,” satoshi complains, but still gathers sho into his arms. “you know i’m weak against your eyes, sho-kun.”

it earns him another laugh from sho. “sorry,” he says, though he doesn’t sound apologetic at all.

satoshi scoffs and hugs him tighter. the position presses sho’s clothed erection firmer against his stomach, so satoshi gives it a little poke and delights in the way sho pulls at his ears in protest.

“don’t touch it just yet,” sho whines, rustling satoshi’s hair with his breath. “wanna stay like this a li’l bit more.”

“hmm,” satoshi voices out in lieu of answering, tilts sho’s head down in a silent request for a kiss. sho’s lips descend on his gently, with a shyness satoshi coaxes away with his tongue. perhaps sho is mindful of the bitter-salty film still present on his tongue, but satoshi thoroughly ignores it and licks his own taste from sho’s mouth.

absently, he wonders why he tastes sweeter on sho.

when they part with a muffled _smack,_ sho makes a frowny face that doesn’t quite hide his smile. still, he chides. “satoshi-kun,” he says, somehow managing to load his grievances into the short syllables of satoshi’s name.

“i know, i know,” satoshi waves him off, patting him on the bum for good measure. “we’ll brush our teeth before bed, yeah? after that—”

“we need to gurgle, too. and then wash our faces and hands—”

“...yes, all that. and then, bed.” satoshi nudges his nose against sho’s. “i’ll jack you off in bed.”

at the offer, sho perks up in the barest sense — the sparkle in his eyes is dim and his movements are too sluggish to be considered perky — but he complies. not without one last complaint of: “y’r gonna make us dirty againnn.”

his words are slurred around a sleepy whine, so there’s a high chance he’ll fall asleep halfway through orgasm, but that’s okay. satoshi is still awake enough to wipe him down and tuck him in. resolute to see it all through, satoshi puts sho’s arm around his shoulder and helps him up.

they make their way to satoshi’s bedroom as a weird unit of tangled limbs and bent torsos, arms around each other and giggles spilling from their lips. it’s a rare day where they don’t need to be speedy with sleep; there are five to six hours left until sho’s pre-alarm for their wake up call rings, and satoshi will spend most of it holding him close.

for some reason, it makes him look forward to tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> perhaps the writing speaks for itself but i _love_ when ppl slip out of character during sexual scenes bc they’re too dumb in love :( also no u can’t convince me yama aren’t nasties. they’re prob advocating roleplay rights as we speak hh i love my heroes😔✊
> 
> ...so what do i write next. d*ddy kink or nii-san kink? [leaps off window]
> 
> nsfw [twt](https://twitter.com/akanosumizumi) where i fangirl & intermittently drop hcs coz i can’t do it on main :"))


End file.
